WINTER SECRETS

by: Karle Wilson Baker (1878-1960)

od wrote my heart a letter, I believe,

And used the branches of the naked trees

Against the winter sky, for characters.

I cannot translate into mortal words

The dainty hieroglyphics of the elm,

The oracles in oak, the willow's rhyme,

Nor any of the lovely dialects

That write themselves across the setting sun.

But, like some tonsured pedant of old time

Who wooed his dimming parchment like a bride,

And pored upon it, yearning, day and night,

So, year by year, I take my lesson up,

And dream out little meanings, one by one,

Writ in the margin of God's manuscript.

• Learn about Karle Wilson Baker